


Damian Was Raised By Assassins...

by BethanyDarkRose



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Parent Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Crying, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne-centric, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Supportive Batfamily (DCU), Tim Drake is a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethanyDarkRose/pseuds/BethanyDarkRose
Summary: Damian had never thought of his upbringing as anything less than a gift.The broken bones, the sweat, the blood, the tears... they were all worth it to have been so well trained. And he was grateful to his mother for having made sure he was so prepared.But he was sixteen now...And he was starting to feel differently...AKA- It isn't till Damian is sixteen that the effects of his childhood really start to catch up with him and he begins to realize that Talia didn't always have his best interest at heart.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 26
Kudos: 577





	Damian Was Raised By Assassins...

**Author's Note:**

> So this ended up being really different than I'd originally expected. I thought one panic attack... 1,500 words tops but... here we are. Damian is sixteen in this fic and the story is really about him coming to terms and realizing how unhealthy and abusive his upbringing with Talia was. Sorry for any grammar mistakes.
> 
> I wasn't sure if I should rate it T or M so I thought better safe than sorry. 
> 
> WARNINGS: This fic has detailed descriptions of panic attacks as well as dark examples of child abuse. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS MAY TRIGGER YOU!!!
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters belong to DC
> 
> Enjoy.

Damian was raised by assassins. 

He grew up being taught that feelings were a weakness. That making any type of personal connection with anyone was a mistake. That he was above human emotions such as love, sadness and shame…but especially fear. He’d always thought of his upbringing as an advantage. 

He could never be referred to as weak because he knew how to kill someone in a thousand different ways. He couldn’t be thought of as unintelligent either because he had a genius IQ; partly due to genes and partly due to the never ending slew of tutors Talia forced on him. 

Most children couldn’t even handle the idea of death… where Damian was being forced to do the killing himself before most kids knew how to tie their shoes. It took him a few years living at the manor and being Robin before he understood why being brought up the way he was, was so wrong.

But even with the realization of the messed up nature in which he was raised; he wouldn’t change it if he could. He never wanted to feel helpless… and with how well he was trained, he couldn't if he tried. 

He’d been through so much in the short time he’d been alive. Messed up situations most people wouldn’t find themselves in their whole lives. Despite this, he was grateful for his mother’s training techniques. It made him stronger. 

At least that’s what he thought...

Damian was raised by assassins.

And perhaps that’s the problem.

**XXXX**

The first time it happened he was painting in his room. 

He’d always preferred sketching over anything else but he was trying to branch out and experiment with different mediums. 

Titus watched from the bed as Damian smeared different colored paints on the canvas in front of him; looking completely at ease. 

He always seemed to be in a trance when doing any form of art. It put his mind to rest. He didn’t have to focus on anything or anyone other than his current project. 

That’s why he jumped so hard when Titus barked suddenly. 

“What is it, boy?” Damian asked, whirling around to face the Great Dane. 

Said Great Dane, jumped off of Damian’s bed, and then sat by the door before barking again. 

“You want to go outside?”

Another bark. 

He opened his mouth to respond; a smile plastered to his face, when he noticed the cold feeling surrounding his hand. 

Turning back to his desk he realized the mess he’d made. 

Red paint was spreading over most the table and even dripping slightly over the edge.

“Shit.” Damian cursed, getting up and grabbing the tissue box off his nightstand to wipe up the red liquid. 

It took a minute or two before the table looked somewhat back to normal but his painting was ruined, now being almost completely covered in red. 

_Perhaps I shouldn’t have added water to the paint._

Damian glanced over to Titus, who was patiently laying by the door, watching him. 

“Let me wash my hands and then I’ll take you out.” He spoke quickly before heading into his bathroom and turning on the faucet. 

...and that’s when it happened. 

One moment he was washing red paint off his hands in the bathroom attached to his room… and the next he was trying desperately to scrub blood out from underneath his fingernails in his mother’s bathroom. 

It had been the day Talia had forced him to kill his tutor. He was five at the time. 

_“He was no one and nothing, my love. This is why we don’t get attached to people. Anyone and everyone is expendable, Damian. That is a lesson you must learn.”_

His chest seized up as his mother’s silk voice surrounded him. 

The coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils and caused his eyes to burn.

“He was helping me.” Damian felt himself mumble out in a broken voice. 

_“He served his purpose. He no longer had anything to offer you.”_

A sob forced its way out of Damian’s throat and he felt his whole body shaking violently in panic.

“He was a good person.”

_“Good does not mean valuable.”_

His head ached as he backed into the wall with enough force to feel the vibrations in his teeth.

_I’m such a bad person. I’ll never make up for everything I’ve done. If they knew about it all…_

And Damian didn’t think he could become any more panicked than he already was but he was proven wrong as another wave crashed over him.

He gripped his shirt tightly, panting heavily as if he’d just run a marathon. It took him a moment to realize that the high-pitched whimpering noise was coming from him and not Titus.

 _“He was no one and nothing, my love.”_ He heard his mother’s voice again and looked all around for the source of the noise; finding nothing.

His breath was moving in and out of him at an accelerated pace and yet Damian didn’t feel the sweet relief of oxygen entering his lungs. Instead he felt lightheaded and dizzy.

He slid down the wall and to the floor; gasping.

_I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe. I’m going to die._

Suddenly all of his training on how to handle high stress situations disappeared as nerve-racking thoughts continued to fill his brain.

He was so sure he was going to pass out just as he felt something warm rub up against his neck.

Opening his eyes and looking to his right, he saw Titus watching him with a similarly nervous look.

And suddenly, he felt a little better.

He was at the manor. Not with his mother.

He reached out shakily and Titus nuzzled into his outstretched hand.

“H-Hey b-boy.” Damian stuttered out; still trying to catch his breath.

The Great Dane just whined and licked Damian’s tear stained cheeks in response. 

The next ten minutes or so went by with Titus licking and nuzzling Damian before laying down across his lap as Damian pet him and slowly got his breathing under control.

**XXXX**

The next time it happened was ironically enough when Damian was researching ways to prevent panic attacks.

He’d spent _hours_ that first night figuring out what had happened to him and then spent a few days afterwards accepting that _he_ , Damian Wayne, could even even experience something like that.

So, when everyone had left the manor for the day (including Alfred) Damian went to the library and started looking for a “self help” book even though he despised that name.

It took a few minutes before he found the section he was looking for and then stopped in front of the shelves in uncertainty.

**The Art Of Self-Discipline**

**How To Stop Doubting Your Greatness**

**The Gifts Of Imperfection**

He grimaced at those titles and kept looking.

**The Art Of Talking To Yourself**

**7 Habits Of Highly Effective People**

**Dare To Lead**

Still not finding anything, Damian was starting to feel self-conscious about the whole situation.

...and then right as he was about to turn around and walk back to his room; he saw it.

**It Wasn’t Your Fault**

Then in smaller letters reading, **Freeing Yourself From The Shame Of Child Abuse.**

_Child Abuse?_

_Well, I wasn’t abused…_

_Mother trained me. She didn’t abuse me._

Yet, despite his inner thoughts, Damian felt himself gravitating towards it.

_I wasn’t abused… but perhaps it has some information about...panic attacks._

And with that thought in mind, Damian grabbed the book and flipped it open.

His intention was to scan the chapters for anything relating to panic attacks but he found himself continuing to read the title of the 6th chapter, **“Realizing The Difference Between Teaching and Abusing.”**

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, the book was flipped to chapter 6 and he was quickly reading through the person’s story.

**“...My dad said that forcing me to shoot the deer was teaching me a valuable lesson about life. Then he made me kill another deer and another and another until I could do it without crying. It took four for me to stop. I was eight and I thought it was normal for your father to force you to hunt. It took me a long time to realize that abuse could be more than just hitting someone...”**

And that story flung Damian back to one of the worst memories he had of his mother.

He was seven at the time. By this point, he’d killed more people than he could count because Talia had broken him of his “emotional weakness” when it came to people. 

Damian never became close to his teachers or anyone else for that matter. She saw that as a weakness. That was the main reason she made him kill his tutor in the first place.

Because he had become more than a provider of education. 

He’d become a friend. 

And Damian couldn’t have friends. Talia wouldn’t allow it.

So no longer being able to depend on people for a relationship or connection; Damian moved to animals.

Talia didn’t watch him with piercing and threatening eyes when he pet a cat or talked to a toad. She didn’t intervene in his interactions with fish or insects. She didn’t scold him for supplying birds with water or seed.

Until that one day...

_“Damian, come in here.”_

_“Yes, Mother?”_

_Damian walked in to see her sitting in a chair with his dog in front of him._

_The dog didn’t live with him but in his free time, Damian would bring her food and water. He would read to her and pet her and play with her and even though she wasn’t_ _his_ _; he loved her like his own._

_“I found this mut outside your window begging.”_

_“She is probably hungry.”_

_“Have you been feeding it?”_

_Knowing better than to lie to his mother, Damian responded with a clear, “Yes.”_

_She shook her head in disappointment._

_“I thought you had grown out of these foolish and childish feelings toward other things.”_

_Damian chose not to respond._

_“You cannot have compassion, Damian. Not for people and not for animals. Do you understand me?”_

_He looked towards the cowering dog and nodded, “Yes.”_

_“Good.”_

_There was more silence as Damian anxiously looked towards his mother._

_“Kill it.”_

_It took a moment for the request to register, “...what?”_

_“Kill it.”_

_“B-But she didn’tㄧshe didn’t do anything.”_

_“No compassion, Damian.”_

_Tears rose to his eyes, “Mother, pleaseㄧ”_

_“It does no service to you. You cannot entertain beggars.”_

_His face grew wet as tears dripped down his cheeks, “She doesn’t know any better. I’ll never do it again. I promise, Mother.”_

_“Now Damian.”_

_“Motㄧ”_

_“NOW DAMIAN.”_

_“I CAN’Tㄧ Iㄧ”_

_And that’s when the doors to the room burst open and league members started to file in._

_“Whaㄧ”_

_They surrounded him and his dog._

_Two grabbed the whimpering animal while three grabbed Damian and held a sword to his hands._

_It took him a moment to realize what was happening and even less time for him to become a mess of sobs and begs for his mother to reconsider._

_But Talia just watched with a stoic face._

_A loud yelp from the dog was heard as the league members forced Damian forward._

_He screamed in agony at what he’d just done._

_His best friend._

_His only friend._

_The second the assassins dropped him, he ran to the still animal’s side and cried into her fur; sobbing out apologies and begging for forgiveness._

_The next thing he felt was his mother’s hand on his shoulder._

_“This is what happens when you show compassion, my love. The way you are feeling. You have not only caused yourself unnecessary pain, but also this creature. This was a hard lesson to learn, but a necessary one.”_

_That was the day Damian swore to himself that he wouldn’t show anyone or anything compassion...and that he would never cry in front of his mother ever again._

Startled by the vividity of the memory, Damian fell backwards and onto the ground.

And the feeling was back.

The constriction in his chest.

The tightness in his throat.

The vibrations throughout his body and the never ending slew of bad thoughts moving to the forefront of his brain.

“OhㄧOh God! No. Not again.” Damian panted out as his breathing started to speed up like it did the last time.

_No. No. No. No. No. Pleaseㄧ_

“Damian?” 

_Drake? He’s going to see me. He’s going to find out what I’ve done. He’s going to tell the others. He’s going to hate me. They’re all going to hate me._

“Damian!?”

Seconds later Damian felt Tim slide next to him. 

“Are you okay? What is this? Did you eat something? Take something? Get injected with something?”

Not having the energy to speak; Damian shook his head at Tim’s questions.

And then the older of the two went full detective; taking in the scene to piece the situation together. 

It took almost no time at all to see the book on the ground and realize the section of the library they were in. 

“Is this a panic attack?”

Damian couldn’t respond as his breathing sped up some more and his eyes started to tear up in terror about him finding out and telling the rest of the family.

“Okay. Damian, I want you to focus on me. Can you do that?”

He couldn’t. His brain was going too fast. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _breathe_. He was going to die.

Too much was happening. Too much at once.

“Damian, I mean it. I know you probably feel like you’re dying but you’re not. You’re safe. Okay? Focus on me. Look in my eyes, okay?”

And if only to make him shut up, Damian met Tim’s eyes; panting harshly.

The encouraging smile Tim sent his way made him feel a little better (not that he’d ever own up to it).

“Good. Now we’re going to count down from a hundred by sevens.”

“WhaㄧWhat?” Damian forced out. 

“C’mon brat, I’ll do it with you. One-hundred.”

Damian just watched Tim for a minute, gasping fast before repeating, “One-hundred.”

“Good, now a hundred minus seven.”

“NinetyㄧNinety-three?”

“You got it. What’s next?”

It took Damian longer than he’d ever admit to get eighty-six.

They continued going and the closer Damian got to 0 the slower his breathing became and the less panicked he seemed. 

“What’s after nine?”

“Two.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes as Damian got his emotions back under control and tried to figure out what to say.

“I appreciate your uhmㄧassistance.”

“Anytime. Do youㄧuhm want to talk about it?”

Avoiding the question, Damian commented, “I thought you had a meeting today.:”

“It was rescheduled so I came back here to do some work and then I heard a thud.”

“Yes, I must have tripped.”

Tim studied Damian for a moment before breaking their stare to reach for his book, “Well, here’s you go.”

“Thank you.”

More silence as they looked towards each other until Tim pulled his laptop out from his bag and began working on the floor next to the sixteen year old.

It took twenty minutes for Damian to ask, “How did you know that counting would aid me?”

Looking up from his screen, Tim responded with, “I used to get panic attacks a lot when I was younger. I found out that focusing on things with a definitive answer helps.”

There was more silence so Tim spoke up again, “Does that happen a lot?”

“Just one other time… they’re minor. Probably nothing in comparison to what you had to deal with.”

Ignoring the comment; the older of the two asked, “Have you figured out what’s triggering them?”

There was another pause as Damian clearly tried to contemplate what to reveal and what to keep to himself; eventually settling on, “I’m not sure.”

“Is it Talia?”

“No!”

He denied too quickly and that was all the confirmation Tim needed.

“Because no one would think less of you… growing up in the league of assassins… it would be weird if you didn’t have any kind of reaction.”

“I appreciate your assistance but I no longer require it.”

And with that, Damian stood up and went to leave; book in hand, “And this does not need to be mentioned to anyone else… especially Father... or Grayson.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Tim watched him leave the library; making a mental note to do some extra research on panic attacks.

**XXXX**

The third one he had was the worst by far. 

It had been almost two weeks since his last and Damian was starting to think they were isolated incidents…

But the terror feeling came back stronger than he’d ever felt while he was running in PE. 

He was thrown back to the day Talia drugged him to train his adrenaline fueled self.

He was six and she’d dosed him with LSD. Then instead of surrounding him with a calm environment for an enjoyable experience; she purposefully surrounded him with an environment to put him on edge.

_“Run Damian. You’re going to die if you don’t go faster. You will die and you won’t be brought back. Only honorable members of the Al-Ghul line are allowed to use the pit.”_

He tried to breathe evenly but everything started to restrict again so he picked up the pace and ran to the teacher. 

“May I─ g-go to the restroom?”

She seemed a little surprised by Damian’s heavy breathing but nodded to the building anyway.

_“Run Damian.”_

His breathing had escalated to hyperventilating by the time he reached the locker rooms and he barely had enough clarity to lock the door before he collapsed on the ground.

_Not again. Not now. Not here. Please- no._

His chest was on fire as he tried to breathe evenly.

_I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I can’t breathe._

And those thoughts brought him back to Tim.

_“I know you probably feel like you’re dying but you’re not. You’re safe.”_

And with that memory in mind, Damian choked out a, “Counting.”

Breath still coming out irregular pants; Damian forced out a, “One-hundred.”

Then a, “Ninety-th-three.”

_“Run Damian.”_

“E-Eighty-six.”

_“You’re going to die if you don’t go faster.”_

“S-Seventy-n-nine.”

Despite the counting, Damian’s breathing continued to speed up as his vision started to cloud with black dots.

_It’s not working. It’s not working. I’m dying. I can’t breathe._

_Drake. I need to─_

He touched Tim’s name on his watch, pressed the call button, and tried to remain calm as the dialing tone filled the locker room.

_“Hey, I’m in a meeting. This better be importa─Damian?”_

Tim’s tone immediately switched from mildly annoyed to concerned.

“I─I can’t─I can’t breathe. I can’t─I─”

_“Hey, try to calm down. Where are you?”_

“Sc-school. L-Locker room”

_“Okay, I’m coming to get you. Can you get to the nurse? Or the office? I’ll be there in ten minutes tops.”_

“No- No- I can’t─I can’t breathe. I’m gonna─”

_“You’re going to be okay. I promise. You’re at school. Look at the lockers. We’re going to try counting again, okay?”_

“T-Tried. D-didn’t work.”

_“Try again. I’ll do it with you. This time we’re going to count by threes”_

“O-Okay.”

And just like last time Tim talked Damian through the counting and as they reached the last number; Damian had calmed down considerably. 

_“Are you okay? Do you feel better?”_

“Y-Yeah.” 

_“Okay good.”_

The relief in Tim’s voice could be heard over the phone.

“You’re still coming, right?”

_“Yeah, I’m about two minutes away. Can you get to the office? I called ahead so they should be expecting you.”_

“Y-Yeah.”

_“Good. Are you okay to get off the phone?”_

Damian wanted to say no… but he also wanted to hold onto whatever pride he had left. So he stood up, wiped his face, and unlocked the door.

“Yes. I’m heading to the office now.”

Still in his gym clothes, Damian made his way to the front of the school just in time to see Tim arguing with the woman at the front desk.

“I just don’t understand what is so urgent that he must be yanked out of school in the middle of the day.” The receptionist stated.

“Look, I’m just coming to get him. If you would like to interrupt Mr. Wayne in a meeting; please, be my guest.”

The woman still looked towards Tim with narrowed eyes and responded with, “Mr. Wayne will be hearing from us.”

And Tim sent a fake smile her way before grabbing Damian’s wrist and leading him out.

Neither of them spoke till they were both seated and buckled in the car. 

“Are you okay?” Tim asked seriously.

Damian just nodded in response before asking, “Did you tell Father?” in alarm.

“No, no I didn't tell Bruce anything.”

“But you said─”

“She wouldn’t have let me sign you out unless I said that Bruce sent me. Although I won’t be surprised if Bruce does get a call.”

“W-What will we say?”

Tim sighed before starting up the car, “I’ll handle it.”

And he did.

Damian cringed as he heard Bruce berating Tim about leaving an “extremely important meeting” and “yanking Damian out of school.”

And true to his word Tim “handled it.”

“I’m sorry. It was a bad call on my part. I just didn’t want to sit through another meeting and everyone else was busy so I didn’t think Damian would mind grabbing lunch.”

Eventually Bruce gave up on trying to get a different answer and released Tim to do whatever he had planned for the night.

And that’s how Damian found himself barging into Tim’s room.

“Why didn’t you tell father the real reason you got me from school?”

Tim exhaled loudly and whirled around to face Damian, “Because I told you that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“But you’ve made yourself seem unreliable.”

“Damian, that isn’t important.”

“I don’t understand.”

He was trying to but none of it made sense. 

“I did it because the last thing you need is for Bruce or the others to get involved in this if you don’t want them to be.”

Confusion was still clear on Damian’s face.

“Look, right now you’re going through something. I think you’re realizing that the way you grew up was traumatic and abusive and you’re trying to deal with it. So…I don’t want to add to that by making you feel exposed or betrayed.”

And finally Damian started to gain a look of understanding.

“Well, thank you. I owe you one.”

Tim smiled in response and came back with, “You bet you do. Next time Dick or Jason try to replace my coffee with decaf, you better warn me.”

His quip pulled a smirk out of Damian, “I suppose that can be arranged.”

“Good. Shut my door on your way out.”

Damian made sure to leave it cracked open and laughed obnoxiously as he heard Tim yell after him.

**XXXX**

_“Damian, come here. Show me your hands.”_

_He listened. Because he always listened._

_“Keep your hands still.” She ordered as she placed both of his hands on the table in front of her._

_He saw her walk over to the weapon chest._

_He didn't move._

_He saw her grab the sledge hammer._

_He didn’t move._

_He watched as she came back over to him and lifted it up._

_He didn’t move._

_The only thought that filled his mind as the hammer came flying down was, “I deserve this.”_

Damian shot awake just as the hammer made contact with his hands. 

He was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily but not in a “panic attack” way. He was just out of breath from the memory.

Titus whined and nudged Damian’s arm.

“I’m alright, Titus. It was just a dream.”

A dream that left his heart beating wildly and his hands shaking.

Knowing he was too on edge to go back to sleep, he flipped on his lamp and grabbed the self-help book Tim bought him the day he picked him up from school.

 **“...I didn’t realize how much talking to someone would help me until I did it. I’ve always been someone who keeps things inside because I’d rather handle things on my own but talking it through with someone is a load off. The first person I told was my boyfriend and it was as if someone had lifted a rock off my chest. I always thought that “talking to someone” meant talking to a stranger that is getting** **_paid_ ** **to care. Now I realize that anyone you trust is someone you can talk to. I didn’t need someone to fix it, I just needed someone to listen…”**

That story resonated with him. He’d never seen the appeal of talking to someone about his feelings because he didn’t understand his feelings himself. But if telling someone would help him get rid of the near constant buzz of anxiety he felt; it was worth a try.

_Drake didn’t betray me when Father was reprimanding him… perhaps he will keep what I tell him a secret as well._

Damian also didn’t have any doubt in his mind that Tim was awake.

So he got up, flipped off his lamp, headed down the hall, and sure enough there was a faint light shining from underneath Tim’s door.

Not wanting to wake anyone at the sound of his knocking; he let himself in to see Tim (unsurprisingly) typing on his laptop.

He looked up in confusion before moving his computer off his lap and asking, “Uhm… hey Damian. Is everything alright?”

The sixteen year old moved to sit on Tim’s bed and responded, “I wish to share some things with you but I will not feel comfortable unless it is fully confidential.”

“I won’t tell anyone anything you tell me.”

“Swear it.”

“I promise.”

“I had a dream tonight.”

Sensing Damian wasn’t going to elaborate, Tim responded, “Okay.”

“It was a memory actually. One of Mother’s lessons…She was training me to be able to work efficiently with broken bones.”

Damian chose to stare at the bed instead of looking at Tim’s reaction.

“She told me to hold my hands still and then she broke them with a sledge hammer… and then I woke up.”

At Damian’s silence, Tim replied, “That sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t… Well it was butㄧI was eight and she’d already done so many other things... it just seemed like a lesson… or a punishment. Soㄧ I just let her do it. She didn’t even have to force my hands down. I held them still and let her break them…”

“That’s still abuse. If you wouldn’t have done it willingly, she would’ve forced you to.”

“I didn’t cry when it happened. I just watched… and then she gave me a list of tasks to complete before she’d allow me to receive care. I remember feeling numb when she did it. I wasn’t afraid or sad or angry... I just let it happen because I thought she was helping me. Even after coming here… I wasn’t angry at her for putting me through things like that because I thought she did it for my own good… but… nowㄧI feel differently.”

Tim reached forward and gripped Damian’s shoulder; causing the younger of the two to look up.

“That’s _good_ , Damian. You _should_ feel different. Talia abused you...in more ways than one and it’s important for you to realize that it’s _not_ normal or excusable.”

“I just think back to things she did to me or… or _made_ me do andㄧit wasㄧit was _wrong_.” His voice cracked and he turned away to hide his shining eyes.

“It _was_ wrong.”

“She made me kill my dog… I uhmㄧI stopped befriending people because Mother wouldn’t allow that… so I moved to animals… I find them easier to understand than people.” Damian sighed, “Anyway, I started to care for this dogㄧI would bring her food and water and play with her… But Mother found her outside my window and brought her inside. Then she made me kill her.”

Tim let out a long breath and responded with, “That wasn’t your fault Damian. She would have killed the dog if you hadn’t or she would’ve hurt you. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“ _No,_ you don’t understand. I refused but sheㄧshe called members of the league in and they _forced_ me. I was only seven...I wasn’t strong enough toㄧI wasn’t strong enough.”

He turned back to Tim to see him looking sick at the revelation.

“Talia is a terrible person, Damian.” 

He nodded, “Perhaps, but she is my mother.”

Damian spent the next hour or so telling Tim stories from his childhood and listening to him reiterate the abnormal and unhealthy nature of them.

He was relieved to find that he did feel better... at least slightly. 

The weight on his chest; while still there, was less prominent.

Damian thought he was starting to get the hang of his panic attacks.

...he didn’t know that in a few short weeks it would all be out in the open.

**XXXX**

Damian gazed out the window of the limousine as he finished tying his tie and tried to ignore Jason’s obnoxious whining.

“Why do Steph and Babs get to skip this gala thing again?” 

Bruce groaned and dropped his head in his hands while Tim turned to Jason with an annoyed expression, “For the _seventh_ time, Barbara is out of town and Steph and I broke up so she doesn’t _have_ to come anymore.”

“Well that’s not fair. Why don’t I get a choice? If I date Dickhead over there and break up with him, can I stop coming?”

Damian couldn’t help but smirk at the silent rage dripping from Tim’s features. 

“C’mon guys, tonight doesn’t have to be _all_ bad. At least there’ll be food!” Dick tried to lighten the mood with a smile.

“Are you kidding me? Last time, someone offered me something called Balut. Do you know what that is? It’s duck fetus! You literally open it and munch down on a duck corpse!”

Tim rolled his eyes with a, “Well that’s your own fault for putting something in your mouth without asking what it is.”

“ _Duck_ . _Fetus._ ”

Damian cringed slightly at the memory, “While I _do_ enjoy watching Todd make a fool of himself, I have to agree with the disturbing and criminal nature of the dish.” 

Jason smiled brightly, “Ha. See, even the brat agrees with me.”

And despite the subject of their discussion or the name Jason tossed his way, Damian couldn’t help but smile. 

Listening to the familiar banter of his family put him at ease and helped to remind him of where he was.

The car came to a stop as they pulled in front of the banquet centre. 

“Finally, we’re here. Remember, there are cameras everywhere and to be on your best behavior. This gala is _extremely_ important for WE. That means no scenes, no sneaking out, no bad impressions.” 

Dick sighed as lights started to flash into the car due to Alfred opening the door, “We know, Bruce. Don’t worry. We’ve been to enough of these to know how to act.” 

And with that, Dick hopped out of the limo with a bright smile and a lifted hand.

Loud female screams were heard and Tim rolled his eyes and mumbled out, “Why does he always have to go first?” before climbing out as well.

Next went Jason with a, “Fuck it.” 

And after him, followed Damian remarking, “Todd and his expletives.” 

He’d been in this exact situation many times before...

Lights flashing as photographers took picture after picture. 

Loud yelling as reporters tried to get a comment from him, his father, or his brothers.

Even the amount of people wasn’t a new experience for Damian as paparazzi was something you quickly became familiar with as a Wayne.

Yet despite his familiarity with the situation, he found himself pausing as his chest and throat tightened.

_Not here. Not now._

Damian looked ahead to gauge the distance to the entrance. If he could make it inside he could excuse himself and deal with it in private.

He saw Dick saying something to a young reporter that was making her laugh and blush. 

And Tim had clearly slyly whispered something to Jason, causing the older of the two to laugh obnoxiously.

_Just take a few deep breaths. I’m at a gala in Gotham… not in a training session with Mother._

Damian was startled out of his frozen state as he felt Bruce’s hand rest gently against his lower back.]

“You alright?” Bruce asked through his teeth as he stepped beside him, grinned, and waved towards the horde of people. 

Finding it difficult to get his mouth to work, Damian just nodded and forced his legs to move. 

**“Damian, anyone special in your life?”**

**“Will you be at Gotham Academy’s prom this year?”**

**“Damian! Damian! Any encouraging words for your fellow vegetarians?”**

He ignored the demanding voices of the reporters in hopes of getting inside as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately however, Dick loved the attention… and he always seemed to be the one who went first; meaning he was stuck on the carpet until his socialite older brother decided to move. 

Damian tried not to think about how long that could take and instead tried to focus on anything else… but the constant strobe light effect of the cameras had him feeling dizzy and kind of sick.

He knew what was coming. It had happened enough times now that he could tell when it was about to occur. 

Tim had told him that he should leave the situation when he felt himself getting triggered… but he couldn’t exactly do that with current circumstances.

_“Damian.”_

He jerked to the side; eyes wide at the familiar voice. 

_Mother?_

Damian couldn’t even see his brothers anymore. All he could see was the constant flashes of light and the occasional fragments of red or black.

_“Focus Damian. You must learn to fight without your vision.”_

Damian felt his breath hitch as he heard his mother’s sharp voice.

He tried to back away and was met with a sharp jab on his side.

_“You can’t depend on your sight, my love.”_

_Talia grabbed him around the waist and pushed him forward; probably into a trap. He tried to reel back but she caught his arm and held him with more strength than he knew she had._

_‘Damian.”_

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. 

“Damian.” Tim’s voice echoed.

And only then did he start to come back to reality enough to realize that they were all inside and he was leaning against a wall in a dark hall a little ways away from the entrance.

His breathing was fast; as it usually got when he was panicking.

“Breathe. You’re okay.”

Except that he couldn’t breathe.

“I─I can’t!”

“You can. Take a deep breath.”

Instead of following his older brother’s instruction, Damian looked around and noticed the rest of his family standing a few feet away with a mixture of concerned and confused expressions.

Beginning to pant harshly, Damian gripped the front of his shirt and closed his eyes as he said again, “I can’t. I can’t.”

He felt hands loosening his tie as Tim gently responded, “We’re at the gala. It’s just me, Dick, Jason, and Bruce. No one else is here. You’re safe.”

His eyes burned with tears and his hands shook violently as he tried to calm himself down.

“I can’t─I can’t get her out of my h-head.”

“She isn’t here. It’s just us.”

“Everything she’s done─everything she’s p-put me through.”

“I know.” Tim spoke.

And not in a way of “I know what you’re going through” but in a way of “I know you’re scared but I’m here.”

“She _hurt_ me and _scared_ me and _broke_ me!”

It was like everything he’d been keeping inside came barreling out.

“She lied to me. She’s a _liar._ She never loved me! She never cared about me! I tried so hard. I tried so _so_ hard and she never loved me!”

Damian was yelling all of this at Tim and the young detective listened patiently.

“I hate what she did to me. I hate what she forced me to do.”

“I _know_.” Tim responded; his previously calm and emotionless voice brimming with hurt.

“She made me kill everything I ever loved! I’m a killer! I’m a _murderer_ and it’s **_HER FAULT_ **!”

He sucked in a breath and let out what he’d been keeping in for so long...

“I _hate_ her.”

His voice broke and the wall he had up completely shattered as he reached out for Tim.

“I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.” He whimpered out desperately.

Tears cascaded down Damian’s cheeks as he let out a heart-wrenching sob.

“I know.” And Tim was definitely crying at this point too.

Damian knew he must have looked a mess but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I hate her so much!”

And the next thing Damian knew there was the weight of someone hugging him. 

Neither of them had ever been huggers but in the moment both of them clung to each other as if their lives depended on it.

“ _I hate her_.” Damian whimpered out one more time before sobbing harshly into Tim’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Tim whispered back.

They stayed in the embrace for a few more minutes as Damian cried himself out in Tim’s arms and once his breathing slowed to a steady pace; they separated.

There was a moment of silence before Jason spoke up with a, “What the fuck was that?”

And Tim and Damian had almost completely forgotten about the rest of the family’s presence.

Jason’s face was contorted in confusion and anger while Dick just looked sad; if the tears in his eyes were anything to go by. Bruce on the other hand looked both lost and concerned.

And that’s when the night’s events came back to Damian. 

“The gala.” he croaked out; voice raw.

“W-what?” Dick asked.

“Y-you had a speech. Did we miss the speech?” Damian asked Bruce; trying to stand up.

His movements were stopped by Bruce moving in front of Tim and resting his hand on the youngest’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t matter now, Damian.”

“B-but it’s important.”

Firmly Bruce responded, “Not more important than you.”

Damian looked around at all of them before focusing back on Bruce, “I don’t want to ruin your business opportunity, Father.”

“You are not ruining anything. There will be other opportunities.”

“But─”

“No one wanted to come anyway… change of plans. Jason, call Alfred, tell him to bring the car around and to the side exit, we’re going to dinner.”

Jason looked like he was about to come back with something but waved his hand and walked away to dial Alfred.

“I don’t wish to talk about this at the moment.” Damian spoke, looking self-consciously at Bruce.

“You don’t have to talk about it with me right now. I’m just happy you’ve been talking to someone.” Bruce said as he turned and looked towards a blushing Tim.

That’s when everyone was startled by Dick throwing himself into Damian, “I was trying to wait until you and Bruce had your moment but the pull to hug you is just too strong.”

The three of them each let out breathy laughs and then Jason walked back over, “Thank God, Goldie got his hug. I thought he was going to implode.”

Another set of laughs.

“Alfie is waiting outside the north exit. Everybody ready to go?”

The four of them following Jason down the hallway was an answer in itself.

“Now B, my only demand for where we eat is that they don’t serve Balut.”

Tim rolled his eyes and laughed out an, “Oh my God.” as Bruce pulled out his phone and said, “Places near me serving Balut.”

Damian felt the weight of Dick’s arm resting on his shoulder. 

He watched as Jason grabbed Tim around the neck and messed up his perfectly styled hair.

He heard Bruce laugh honestly as he watched their antics.

For the moment, he was content just living in the present.

Not in the future where he had to talk to the rest of the family about what had been going on.

And not in the past with his abusive Mother and traumatic childhood.

Damian was raised by assassins… 

...but that didn't define him.


End file.
